


Smoke and Mirrors

by orbythesea



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbythesea/pseuds/orbythesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"One of these days, Kalinda, you'll have to stop teasing me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke and Mirrors

When she comes back from the bathroom, Maton and the others are gone. Only Peter is left, a cigarette clutched tightly between two thick fingers.  He's holding it like a joint, and the image is incongruous enough that it makes her want to laugh.

"I didn't know you smoked," she says, sliding into the barstool next to him.

Peter looks up, startled and maybe a bit embarrassed.  "My wife made me quit years ago," he says.

"My husband smokes."  It takes her a minute to get the words out, and it's odd, saying them.  It's odd that he _knows._

"I'll put it out, if it bothers you," he says but she shakes her head.

He takes a drag, then, and he seems to be savoring it.  She doesn't tell him that Leela smoked, too, that the smell of it makes her hungry, makes her afraid.  She orders a shot of tequila and the bartender refills his scotch.

"After a day like this… " He trails off, studying the cigarette for a moment before stubbing it out in the ashtray.  She knows what he wants to say.  After a day like this, he needs something to take the edge off.  Something to remind him that he's a man.

"There are other things," she murmurs, pointed, flirtatious.  "Things that won't kill you."

He studies her for a moment, then laughs.  It's a harsh sound, dark and stained and hollow.  "One of these days, _Kalinda_ , you'll have to stop teasing me."

"Who said anything about teasing?"  Her reply comes out quickly, automatically, and her voice doesn't shake the way Leela's used to.  It feels good, crawling further into Kalinda's skin.

He stops laughing, then, puts his hand on her thigh and leaves it there until she nods to the bartender for the check.

In the hotel across the street, his kisses are hard and hungry and he makes her think of a man abandoned in a desert somewhere, desperate for water.  He's got his hand under her skirt, those thick fingers moving quickly, coaxing her arousal as if he's afraid she might flee if he gives her time to think about this.  Or maybe he's afraid he'll flee himself.  Its disconcerting, not being sure which one it is.

She pushes his hands away and walks him back to the bed, tugging at his belt, taking control.

He's hard in her hand, then her mouth, and he tugs at her hair, digs his fingers into her scalp.  _God_ and _please_ and _don't stop_ spill from his lips and she wonders, idly, how long its been since anyone gave him a decent blow job.  Fifteen years, probably.  He pulls her away, eyes wide, and mutters a curse as she strips.

He fucks her hard and fast, hands clawing at her tits and he comes well before she's even close but that's no surprise, not really.  Leela used to come easily, until she didn't, but Kalinda's more complicated than that.  Kalinda doesn't measure sex by orgasms, doesn't want them, really.  She's in control, see.  She's always in control.

His phone rings as he's tying off the condom to toss into the waste bin and she moves away to dress as he talks.

( _Sorry, Babe, I had to go back in for a bit.  No, don't worry about it, I'll grab something on my way._ )

He starts to apologize, but she shakes her head, silences him.  "We don't have to talk about it," she says, tugging up the zipper of her boot.  "We probably shouldn't."

He looks relieved.  She feels sorry for him.

Brushing her teeth, later, she wonders if he remembered to wash the taste of smoke from his mouth.


End file.
